


Brother Mine

by Rector



Category: Sherlock BBC
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 05:35:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9867368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rector/pseuds/Rector
Summary: I wrote this vignette for the Mycroft Holmes Fanbook currently in production. It wasn't until a couple of weeks later that I saw the wonderful Evabrite had published her story 'Your Responsibility'  http://archiveofourown.org/works/9575330 and I realised the stories were serendipitously similar. I have written a new story for the book and offer the original here.





	

There was no denying it; mummy was _enormous_. It was possible she might be classified in the family _Cetacea_ , a minor Baleen at the very least. If she became even marginally bigger, satellites would be able to locate her from space.

Mycroft picked at his breakfast, not terribly hungry as he watched the unwieldy body of his mother undulate slowly around the kitchen. He winced every time she caught her breath, holding the palm of a hand flat to her side as if the slightest movement caused her great pain and distress. Of course, he'd observed expectant ladies before, in the village and from a distance, but they'd never appeared to be in as much discomfort as mummy was this morning. He lowered his eyes to a bowl of increasingly soggy cornflakes and wondered dismally how long his mother's terrible suffering would have to continue. It just wasn't _fair_. There was no reason to have gone through the ordeal of another baby, wasn't he enough? Mycroft was convinced his own gestation couldn't possibly have been so horrific; surely nobody would voluntarily go through such a terrible experience _twice?_ The horrid intruder she carried was probably hideously repulsive and would break mummy's heart, though perhaps that would be kinder in the long run. Mycroft was certain no woman would repeat this dreadful process unless there was some form of mental deterioration. Pregnancy had clearly affected her thinking. But what could he do? He could try and reach the kettle, for one thing.

"Would you like me to make some tea, Mummy?" Mycroft abandoned the cornflakes and stood, pushing the heavy wooden chair out behind him, his eyes observant of his mother's every strained breath. "Do you want to sit down?"

Lilian Holmes turned at her son's question, smiling faintly at the quavering note of concern in his young voice. Even at seven, Mycroft was already fast approaching forty, the dear little squib. He would no doubt turn out to be an Actuary or something clever but mundane in pensions or insurance. How she and Bill had ever managed to produce such a proper little boy, she'd never know. But he meant well; the child had a good heart.

"Thank you, darling, but I think I'm better walking around at present," Lillian rested a hand on his shoulder, pressing her lips together as another contraction began. They'd started around dawn and Bill had already gone off to tank up the car and put her case in the boot. Lilian Holmes was pacing herself; they'd be off to the main hospital in Bishops Stortford as soon as Bill returned to the Hall with Mrs Withers, the live-out help. Mycroft would be fine with her for a day or so, and then they'd all be home with the baby before the end of the week. She bit her lip as the sharp sensation peaked.

"You're obviously in a lot of pain, Mummy," Mycroft was beside her now, his round little face full of concern and anxiety as the curl of her fingers dug into the thick wool of his jumper. " _Please_ sit down and let me call for someone to come and help." But whom could he call? Daddy had driven off with the car nearly half-an-hour ago, and Musgrave Hall was a twenty minutes' walk away from the nearest village. Uncle Rudy was always off in London on business and Daddy's other family were miles and miles away in Norfolk. There was nobody local, other than a few people in the village that everyone knew ... Mycroft stopped. Of course! He'd been stupid not to realise the obvious help was as close as the phone in the hallway. "Come and sit down, Mummy and I'll make you some tea and you'll feel much better, I'm sure." All but dragging her to the nearest chair, Mycroft went about making the tea as fast as he could given that he was still only seven and couldn't always reach everything but he struggled and managed. While the kettle was in the process of boiling, he checked to see his mother was still seated and in no immediate danger of lapsing into agonised unconsciousness, before hurrying out to the hall phone. It was the work of seconds to make the appropriate call before rushing back into the big kitchen to finish making the brew.

Lilian had no real interest in having tea, but Mycroft seemed increasingly worried about her and the last thing she wanted right now was a distraught child. Early labour was quite enough by itself, thank you.

"Sit here beside me, my clever boy," she patted the chair next to her. "And tell me about your plans for the next few days. I'm going to be a little occupied with your new brother or sister, you know."

Having not the slightest interest in a brother or a sister or whatever diabolical fiend from hell currently despoiled his mother's body, Mycroft viewed his parents' profligate lack of physical control to be verging on lunacy. If Mummy were in any way harmed by this risky business of baby-having, he'd be very cross.

Lilian tipped her head to listen as a car-engine roared up the long drive. It didn't sound like their old Volvo, and it was much too early to be the postman's van ...

The sudden banging at the door made her jump, though for Mycroft, it was the sound of deliverance. With a stupendous sigh of relief, he ran down the long hallway to the big front door and let the ambulance men in.

"Where is she?" The uniformed man demanded as he entered the house. "Where's the lady who's very poorly?" his tone softened as he looked down and saw the rigid tension on the boy's face. "Is it your mummy?" Nodding briskly, Mycroft beckoned, then turned and ran back to the kitchen.

"Who is it, Mykie?" Lilian tried to peer around the door to see who the voice was, only to sit back in shock as two muscular ambulance attendants barrelled into the kitchen, clutching a stretcher and a large medical bag. Her eyebrows flew up.

"She's very unwell, please help her get to hospital," Mycroft stood beside his mother, his voice cracking anxiously as he stared from one adult to the next. " _Please_. Mummy's in a lot of pain."

"Oh, darling, what _have_ you done?" Lilian pressed a hand to her forehead. "Did you ring the ambulance for me?"

Miserably, Mycroft nodded. He couldn't bear that she was in such pain and daddy was gone and that meant there was only himself to look after his mother and he could hardly even reach the kettle ...

"Looks like you're fairly close to coming in anyway, Missus," the first ambulance man rested his hands on the back of a kitchen chair. "Now that we're here anyway, want us to take you along for a ..."

"What the _hell's_ going on?!" Bill Holmes dashed in from the front door, an expression of panic clear across his face. "Lili, are you okay? What's the ambulance doing here? Is there a problem? Tell me, darling, _please_."

The sound of a police-siren wailed into silence as another vehicle crunched to a halt outside the front porch.

"Oh for heaven's sake, _Mycroft_ ," almost cross-eyed between contractions, Lilian stared at him in exasperation. "You called the _police_ as well?"

"I wanted to make sure nothing stopped you from getting to hospital quickly," he lifted his chin. "I am taking care of you."

The sound of multiple running footsteps down the hall brought two uniformed policemen into an increasingly crowded kitchen.

"Anyone care to tell me what's going on here?" the older of the two newcomers looked around, his glance resting on a white-knuckled woman in a chair, a man who appeared to be her husband, two ambulance attendants and a young boy wearing a defiant expression. "We were called out to an emergency."

"I think can explain everything, Officer," Bill Holmes exhaled heavily, just as Lilian grabbed his hand and groaned. One look at his wife made him realise that explanations would have to wait. "Though not right this second," he bent to help his wife to her feet. "Off to hospital now," he announced through compressed lips. "Happy to deal with any problems tomorrow."

"We'll take the lady in the van," the ambulance man suggested. "At least then we won't have had a wasted trip, eh?"

"Off to Bishops Stortford?" the older policeman queried. At Holmes Senior's nod, he nodded back. "Looks like the lad's going to get his wish then," the man smiled. "Nothing like a police escort, and seeing as we're heading that way in any case ..."

"I'll follow in the car," Bill was momentarily flustered as he fixed his eldest child with a look that promised a serious discussion of this morning's events. "I'll see you in there, shall I?" he turned to his wife who was, even as he spoke, being lowered carefully onto a mobile stretcher prior to being loaded into the ambulance.

###

It was beastly being stuck at home with Mrs Withers, though Mycroft admitted to himself that the woman wasn't deliberately offensive, just dim, and at least it gave him peace to read. Finally his father and then, two days later, his mother returned, a little slimmer, though she still moved carefully. They'd also brought back a new white carrycot, the thin cries of its occupant rising from the moment they crossed the threshold. His parents hurried upstairs with the new baby and, after a while, there was blessed silence. Mycroft returned to his book.

"Time to meet your little brother, Mykie," his father stood in the door of his room, looking amused. "I know you weren't too keen on his arrival, but here's here now, so let's make the best of it, shall we? For Mummy's sake."

 _For Mummy's sake_. Very well.

The old wooden crib stood in his parent's bedroom, polished and shiny and filled with soft white sheets and blankets, surely a foolish colour to have around an infant. A faint scent of baby powder and antiseptic cream hovered in the air. Mycroft was bored already, but he stepped forward as his mother beckoned, close enough to reach out and touch ...

The little baby lying in the nest of bedding was pale and vaguely pink, with a dusting of dark fluff on its head. It lay still, though its tiny fingers stretched and jerked in Mycroft's direction as he leaned closer. The baby's eyes opened ...

... The most exquisite blue of glacial ice-lakes.

Mycroft felt himself fall into those eyes and he knew, with absolute certainty, that he was going to be a spectacularly _brilliant_ big brother.


End file.
